the girl with wings in her hair

silver shoes punctuate the ends of

legs crossed at the ankles,

body clad in floaty blue and grey,

brown hair a wing-ed whirlwind —

a tumbleweed.

she has nothing to speak

yet much to express.

she watches the wind rustle the bushes,

the world rain spring petals back down

upon itself.

people saunter by, reflected back again

in the glass.

dusky voices interrupt the solitude

of her thoughts.

“i know you all too well” —

a snatch of conversation floats through the air.

these have little to do

with her.

she and they are different,

a contrast of introspection

with coy flirtation.

she is in love with words —

             which are her definition.